Runaway Jane
by chrispineismykryptonite
Summary: Jane only planned on running as far from her life as possible. She didn't plan on rescuing a dog. She certainly didn't plan on falling for its dad. But nothing has gone according to plan lately, so why should this? Dean/OC
1. Chapter 1

**This idea has been brewing for months and I'm excited to finally be sharing it with you. Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I do. Thank you to anyone who reads any of my stories, you give me life. As always, your opinions are very welcome and I would love to hear from you.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly. I just enjoy Dean as much as the rest of you.**

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"Welcome to Kansas". I scoff as I pass the sign, at this point, I'll take anything that isn't Florida. I make the decision to head west across the state and into Colorado, then north when I reach Denver. The goal is far north Montana, so I can make a run for Canada if it becomes necessary. I drive straight through Kansas City, not wanting to risk the big city - too many eyes. But I'm running out of money, so when I see a sign that reads Bonner Springs I figure it's as good a place as any. I don't stray into town. I'll see if I can get some work at the building just off the highway, a diner with a big sign that says McCoy's, for a few days. This old school quad cab Chevy actually has a pretty comfortable back seat.

In the parking lot I take a look in the rearview mirror, don't want to look too horrid when I ask for a temp job. The bags under my eyes are darker than usual, the stress of the last few days weighing on me heavily. I quickly swipe some concealer under my eyes and throw my long blonde hair into a loose French braid. Before I can over think what I'm about to do, I open the door and hop out of the truck, a cloud of dust puffing up around my worn out burgundy Converse.

The crowd of rough and tumble looking guys sitting at the tables on the patio gives me pause. They look like the kind that hang around habitually and I'm gonna get one thing straight right now: I am not prey. With that in mind I turn and pull my Smith & Wesson out from under the driver's seat, undoing my belt and slipping the holster in place on my right hip before I cinch the belt again. I shrug on my fitted flannel over my tank top, happy to wear it freely again, no longer needing to hear about how un-classy it is. They didn't approve of these jeans either. Apparently skin tight Levi's make me look like 'a cheap redneck whore'. Whatever, those people and their high society demands are behind me now and I'm never looking back. Closing and locking the door, I take a calming breath and let my face fall into a solid 'don't fuck with me' expression and roll my shoulders back, making my 5'5" frame as big as possible. With a quick turn on my heel, I'm striding toward the entrance, my eyes trained forward and my head held high. I feel their eyes follow me the whole way inside and it makes my skin crawl but I refuse to hesitate.

All the cars outside should have been a sign. When I walk through the doors to this little truck stop lounge I'm immediately hit with chatter and the sound of utensils scraping on plates. There's two women rushing around the floor, bustling to keep up with the orders going in and out of the kitchen. The older of the two, a woman who looks to be in her early fifties, stops in front of me, her breathing slightly labored. "Just you today, sweetheart?"

I take a deep breath to settle my nerves. "Actually, I was hoping you could use a spare set of hands for a few days. I'm just about out of travel money."

Her face visibly sags with relief, "I sure could, my only other waitress called out last minute with the flu so I had to drag my tired old bones back out here. I'm supposed to be sitting at that comfy little chair behind the register." I look over to see a pretty floral stool behind the register. "I'm Annette McCoy. Can you start now?"

I give her a big smile. "Absolutely, thank you so much." I hold out a hand to shake, "I'm Jane."

She gestures for me to follow her and leads me to a little room just off to the side of the kitchen. "You got a last name Jane?"

My expression must show my hesitation because her eyebrows raise drastically. "Doe?"

At that she purses her lips and gives me a once over, taking in the lack of purse or any excess frills. Lastly, her eyes settle on my right hip and the revolver resting there. "You can't wear that on the floor, I'll keep it safe for you with me while you work your shift." I hand it over with slight trepidation. She smiles reassuringly and hands me the apron that was previously tied around her waist. "You might wanna think of a better name in the next town doll." Her face softens with sympathy, "he won't get to you here, not if I have a say in it."

My racing heart begins to settle with her understanding. "Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me."

Something in her eyes tells me maybe she does understand. "Let's get you started angel."

It's been awhile since I've waitressed. I wasn't allowed to, what with it being a blue collar, 'lesser persons' job, but I fall easily back into the rhythm of it. This is a restaurant where hard-working, good-hearted people come to eat and they're patient with me while I learn the ropes. By the time the night shift rolls around I'm comfortable with the way the place runs and with the people working here. I was right about the group out front; a few more people come and go, but the bulk of them never leave. Annette comes up to me at the end of the lunch rush and tells me to take a break in that side room and I get a meal on the house, just like all the actual employees. She sits with me while I eat, scarfing down the cheeseburger and fries she plated up for me. "How long do you plan on stayin' in town darlin'?"

I wash the food down with some water before I answer. "Two, maybe three days, tops. I need to keep moving, don't want to stop until I get where I'm going."

She nods in understanding. "You ok if I put you behind the bar tonight? You'll make better tips there."

My head is nodding before I'm even thinking about it. "That would be amazing, thank you so much." I can feel myself tearing up. She pats my hand in the comforting way only a mother figure could.

"You're gonna be just fine sweetheart, I know it."

The bar between the patrons and me provides a sense of comfort, especially when I notice the group from outside has made their way inside. It seems every seedy person that comes in makes a stop by the group that has gathered in the back corner of the bar area, where the pool tables are. But Annette was right, I am making good tips. I definitely won't need to stay three days at this rate. A few of the bolder patrons try to pick me up, but most of them heed the glare I send when they stray from friendly banter to trying to proposition me.

My hyper vigilance of my surroundings means I notice when the whole group leaves. I also notice that they leave out the back, not the front. When I ask Annette about it she pales noticeably but tells me not to worry about it. Needless to say, I'm worried about it.

When the night starts to wind down Annette comes up front to let me know I can head out for the night, she asks that I come back in the morning for the breakfast rush. With my revolver strapped back to my hip and a take out box of a burger and fries in hand, I make my way out to the mostly empty parking lot. Faint cheering from behind the building draws my attention. I know I should leave it alone but I've always been too curious for my own good. There's a barn out in the back and that seems to be where the noise is coming from. Next to the barn is a row of chain link cages that gives me a bad feeling. I walk slowly and carefully to the closed side door and peek through the cracks in the wood siding. What I see inside horrifies me.

The men from out front are inside and they're clearly the ones in charge here. Here, at what appears to be a dog fighting ring. My heart pounds with anger and swells with sadness at the sight. The rottweiler currently in the pit has obviously been here a long time, judging by his demeanor and the scars littering his body. He's snarling and foaming at the mouth, a few marks look fresh, like he's already been fighting tonight. The pitbull they drop in there with him is what truly breaks my heart. At first I'm convinced that this is another veteran of the ring. There is a long scar running down the right side of his face, his ear is split in two and his eye is missing, an indent and scar tissue all that's left. His attitude fixes that thought process immediately. The poor baby cowers down as soon as he's in, loud whimpers falling from him. The other dog gets louder in his growling but doesn't attack, not yet at least. When he does finally attack the other one does nothing but swipe weakly and cry louder, trying to convince the rottweiler to back off and leave him alone. Judging by the crowd response, this has happened before. There's an uproar of booing and a few 'not again's. When one of the men from the original group starts to kick the pitbull in attempt to spur him into action I have to stumble away and vomit in the grass, my stomach rolling uncontrollably. The sounds coming from inside bring tears to my eyes and I throw up twice more before I manage to stumble back to my truck.

Three hours later and I still can't get to sleep, so I climb back out of my truck and creep over to the barn. It's cold here at night, but the cages outside are full of dogs exposed to the elements, food and water bowls in with each of them. They're all in various stages of injury and immediately tears spring to my eyes; people that treat animals this way are monsters. The pitbull from earlier is the only one awake, the only one not in a cage, and the only one without sustenance. He's lying outside the barn with maybe two feet of chain to move around with and a pinch collar that he won't stop pulling against. The desperation seems to be overriding his instinct not to do the thing that hurts. When he notices my approach his ears lie flat and his belly hits the ground, tail tucked underneath his body. I drop to the ground three feet away and begin to try and soothe him. "You're okay honey. I'm here to help. I'm gonna get you out of here. Come here baby." I hold my hand out for him to sniff and shuffle a little closer on my knees. He doesn't growl and I take that as a sign that he's not going to attack so I move the last bit forward so I'm within his reach. It's maybe twenty minutes of me sitting there talking to him before he sticks out his nose to sniff my offered hand. As he does so I keep up the encouragement. "Good boy. Such a good dog, aren't you? What have those mean ole men done to you?" I look around at the other dogs, I want to take them all with me, but this is the only one I know for sure isn't violent. I can't risk the injury they could cause so I'll have to settle for calling the police when I'm many many miles from here. "We're bustin' you outta this joint. Hope you like road trips." I give his nose a little scratch, the only contact he'll allow, and make my way back to my truck to grab the burger that was supposed to be my dinner. It's cold by now, but I doubt the dog will mind.

When I get back to him he's still pulling at his restraints, but less aggressively this time. He stops again as I come into view but doesn't cower. I break off pieces of burger to feed to him and while he eats those I unhook the collar from around his neck. Just as I'm about to stand up and guide the dog away I realize that what I've just done makes it glaringly obvious that someone took him. Thankfully the monsters that did this seemed to think the dog would be too weak to put up much of a struggle because all they've attached the chain to is a straight stake and the dirt around it is disturbed so it looks like he's already been pulling at it pretty hard. After a cursory glance to make sure there's nobody around I wrap my hands in the chain and yank, the ground around the stake gives way with the third pull and it looks enough like the dog managed to pull himself free. Hopefully it will give them enough pause that they won't come after me right away, or at all.

I'm mildly surprised to see that he didn't run off when I turned my back. Although when he eyeballs the rest of the burger sitting in the box at my feet I'm pretty sure I know why. I feed him more pieces as I walk back to the truck to get him to follow me, the chain slung over my shoulder. When I open the back door he looks at me like I'm crazy but as soon as I say "load up" he's in the cab and looking at me expectantly, waiting for the last piece of burger. I give him the rest and shut the door, tossing the chain in the bed and climbing in myself. A glance in the rear view mirror shows that he's sitting in the middle with his head tilted, staring at me. I fire up the truck, wincing a little at the rumble it makes in the quiet night, but thanking my lucky stars all the same that it only took one try. As I reach to shift into first, a dog face appears in my periphery. I watch in stunned silence as he climbs over the seats and curls up in the middle with his head snuggled into my lap. I shake off my surprise and continue to shift so we can head out, making my way towards the I-70 west. "Alrighty dog, let's blow this popsicle stand."

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 **If you got this far thank you so much for finishing the first chapter of my first Supernatural fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed and you continue to join me on this journey. Dean is coming, I promise. I know that's who you all really want. He should be here in the next chapter in all his grumoy glory. Drop a review, or even just a favorite or a follow. Much love xx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Guess who's heerrreee! We're starting to move away from the setup and into the story now, folks. Hope you like it, let me know if you think anyone is terribly OOC. I'd love to hear what you think so if you could drop a review that would be amazing.**

 **Disclaimer: No, I do not own Supernatural or anything recognizable from it. Yes, I do own Jane, and Dog.**

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I'm on the road for maybe twenty minutes and I've just passed a sign that says 'Lawrence - 9 miles' when the inevitable happens. My hand is running across the dog's side as I watch the fairly empty interstate fly by in my headlights and the cab is invaded  
by the overpowering stench of skunk spray. My stomach's reaction is violent and I slap a hand over my mouth to hold it back as long as possible. As soon as I manage to pull onto the shoulder and shut the truck off, I'm scrambling over the pitbull  
and out the passenger door to vomit in the grass. When the heaving pauses I notice that the dog has also left the truck and is sitting next to me watching the road. I pat his back softly, "good dog." I'm not willing to risk standing again just yet  
so I lean against dog and sit by the side of the road for a while. The faint sound of flowing water meets my ears and I look down the incline to see a small creek. The dog is still covered in dried blood and dirt and my face is hot and sweaty from  
my stomach's latest attempt to empty itself. Nothing sounds better right now than rinsing the both of us off in that creek.

Carefully navigating the relatively steep slope, I make it to the edge of the water, my canine companion still sticking close to my side. I kneel by the creek and let my fingers test the water, it's a little on the chilly side, but not unbearably freezing.  
My four legged friend seems to find no issue with it as he walks right into the ankle deep flow and starts lapping up the water greedily. He's standing right in front of me so it's easy to reach out and start working at the mess that his short coat  
has become. It's slow going, some of it is clearly days old, because I have to repeat the soak and scrub a few times in some places. By the faint light of the moon I can't make out the color, but the water is clearly flowing away darker than it started.  
As if he knows what I'm doing, he sits as I make my way up his back legs and then lays himself down so I can get the water to his shoulders easier. The amount of blood caked around his neck where the choke collar was makes my stomach roll again, but  
I manage to reign it in.

A good while later I've managed to get his neck clean and have moved on to his face when a noise on the road catches my attention. The patrol car pulling up behind my truck with the words 'Douglas County Sheriff's Department' emblazoned on the doors makes  
my whole body freeze. At my change in demeanor, the dog is instantly back on his feet, his ears pulled up, every muscle on high alert. I'm certain whoever they are is running the plates. The truck is actually in a friend's name, so I'm relatively  
sure it won't set off any red flags for anyone searching for me; but that creates a problem with me going up there because, well, it isn't in my name and for all they know I stole it. Before anyone can get out and start looking around, I coax the  
dog across the creek and into the tree line. When I turn back to observe I realize why the deputy stopped. In my scramble to get out of the truck, I didn't turn off the headlights and the passenger door is standing wide open. It definitely looks suspicious.  
A man climbs out of the car and walks up to the truck, shining his flashlight through the windows. He's average height and pretty gangly, definitely skinnier than one would expect from somebody in law enforcement. When he turns his head to speak into  
a walkie on his shoulder I know I'm screwed. At this point panic has set in and I don't think to do anything rational, like go try to talk my way out of this, instead I sink farther into the shadows and crouch down with the dog. He gets back in his  
vehicle and in the glow of his computer I can see him lift a phone to his ear. It's a relatively long call and he looks surprised a couple times. By the time he's done my knees have gotten tired and I relax out of my crouch to just sit and watch.  
Immediately after the first, he's making another phone call, this one short and to the point. He's once again out of his car and making his way to mine. When he gets there he pulls open the driver's side door and moments later the headlights go dark.  
After closing the truck doors, he goes back to his car but doesn't leave, just waits. We wait with him, for what I'm not sure. Eventually the dog lays down with his head in my lap and I start to absently run my fingers through the fur on his half  
cleaned head.

What feels like ages later, but in reality is likely only about fifteen minutes, another vehicle is stopping on the shoulder, this time in front of my truck. It's a tow truck, but from this far and with such little light, I can't make out the words on  
the side. The man who steps down is taller than the first, but before I get a chance to notice anything else about him I'm distracted by the dog shooting to his feet and bounding back towards the road. I don't call out to him and I don't follow -  
my brain is still in a pretty solid state of 'absolutely no fucking way am I going back over there'. Both men notice the dog as he makes his way across the creek and I expect them to be immediately apprehensive. What I don't expect is the tow truck  
driver's reaction. His voice is deep, and his surprised shout carries. "Dog!? Is that you buddy!?" I can't make out any more words but the cargo lights on the back of the tow truck give me an unhindered view. He drops to his knees and the dog rushes  
straight into his open arms, lavishing his face with lots of puppy kisses as the man who appears to be his owner returns the favor with a whole lot of pets. Their reunion lasts a couple minutes before they let each other go, the animal moving to greet  
the grinning deputy, and the man begins hooking up the trucks to tow mine away.

As he works I finally get the chance to notice his features, and boy is there plenty to notice. The white t-shirt he's wearing is stretched tight across broad shoulders that lead to some really nice biceps. And those jeans, they hug every curve of his  
legs like they've been worn so often that's just their shape now. His short brown hair looks rumpled enough that I'm pretty sure he was woken up to drive out here. When he's finished I begin to contemplate how I'm going to avoid spending the night  
in these woods. I'd love to have 'sleep in my truck' as an option but that was very obviously not going to happen. My inner debate almost makes me miss something interesting. The tow truck driver is trying to coax the dog into the truck, but he isn't  
going. The dog who was ecstatic to see this man moments ago is now refusing to leave with him. When he moves toward the dog, presumably to just pick him up and put him in the truck, man's best friend lets out a short bark and scampers a few feet away  
before sitting and starting the process again. This goes on for a little while before I realize what's happening; the dog is leading his owner towards the woods, towards me. They've already made it to the creek, one on either side of it. The man appears  
to finally give up on the game and allows his dog to simply lead him to whatever it is he's trying to show him. While I know it's useless, I can't keep myself from hiding behind a tree in a last attempt not to go out there, my hand falling to the  
gun at my hip in self preservational habit. I can hear him making his way through the brush toward the tree line now, branches and leaves crunching under his feet. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that this isn't actually happening right now, but when  
I open them again I'm still in the woods. It's barely a moment later when the dog comes prancing around my hiding tree, tail wagging. The man is right behind him but I keep eye contact with the pitbull in front of me, not willing to face the music  
just yet. "Traitor."

Slowly, reluctantly, I raise my eyes to the tow truck driver. He's tall enough that from my squatting position he absolutely towers over me and I'm really not sure standing will even the odds very much, but I do it anyway. My movement draws his eyes to  
my hand on the butt of the revolver at my hip. He looks back up at me and cocks an eyebrow, "you really think that's necessary?"

I don't move my hand, but I do reassure him. "If I did it wouldn't still be holstered. I trust an animal's judgement." My eyes drop to the dog sitting at his feet, staring up at him with pure adoration.

A dangerous look clouds his handsome face and I suddenly regret bringing up the canine. "Speaking of, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and assume you're not the one who took him and did that to him. Only because he refused to leave  
without you. If I'm wrong, it will not end well for you."

"What!?" My hands are up, attempting a placating gesture. "No! I would never hurt an animal. I mean, I did take him." His face darkens at that and I backpedal quickly. "Not from you! From some dog fighting ring maybe two hours ago, I swear I never saw  
him before tonight. He just looked so miserable and I couldn't leave him there. I mean, I didn't want to leave any of them there. But I didn't have a choice. Some of them looked pretty mean, and they were all locked up. Yours was just chained outside  
and he was so sweet and my heart was breaking for him. If he had a real collar I promise I would've tried to find you but I had no idea he had an owner who was missing him. I wasn't trying to keep him from you or anything I-".

His voice cutting in makes me realize I've begun rambling and I can feel the heat of a blush creeping up my cheeks and over my ears. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down sweetheart, I believe you. It's alright. Why don't you come out of the woods okay?" He gestures  
behind me in the direction of the road. "Is that your truck out there?" My eyes widen and I nod hesitantly, not sure if the deputy told him the owner's name. I am very obviously not a Benjamin. "Okay, come with me and we'll get this sorted out, okay?"  
He's adopted a soothing tone, seeming to pick up on my nervousness. I follow him back to the road, wringing my hands the whole way. The other man looks very confused when we walk up and his hand drops to his service weapon when he notices that I'm  
carrying. The bow-legged man walking in front of me holds up his hands, "it's alright Garth. The truck is hers, I think maybe she just got spooked."

"No way Winchester. I called the owner of the truck and he didn't say nothin' 'bout no lady drivin' it." I close my eyes in defeat, clearly this night will not be going my way. "Now, how about you try that again little lady. What are you doing out here?"

I've subconsciously angled my body behind the tow truck driver and I only notice when he steps away to turn and look at me suspiciously. Suddenly feeling very exposed, I wrap my arms around my middle and take marginal comfort in the fact that the dog  
has once again come to stand with me, against my legs between me and the other two. "Look, if you just call him back, he'll tell you. It is my truck, it's just - it's in his name." Neither one looks inclined to believe me.

"Can't do that, he said he was on the next flight out and it took off," he looks down at the watch on his wrist, "twenty minutes ago." He reaches behind himself and produces a pair of handcuffs. "So you're gonna hand over that weapon and come with me  
down to the station until he gets here, and then we'll get this all resolved." When he steps towards me the dog at my feet lets out a warning growl that turns into a snarl when the man, Garth, continues to move towards me. He stops and turns to the  
owner of the animal with an appalled look.

The surprise is evident on his face and he immediately scolds his pet. "Dog! You don't growl at Garth! What has gotten into you?" His ears and tail droop dramatically and he turns his one sad eye to the truck driver. The deputy must think that's the end  
of it because he moves forward again. Apparently the dog still isn't okay with that. He lets out a tentative growl, not wanting to get yelled at again, but not willing to stop defending me either. This time Garth steps back and Winchester steps forward.  
At the movement of his human, the animal at my feet stops making noise and sits at my feet, shuffling back until his shoulders are between my knees. He looks up with the saddest expression I've ever seen on a dog and lets out a soft whine.

My eyes are wide when they meet those of the man in front of me, who's looking at me in shock. All I can do is shrug my shoulders, I have no idea why his dog is so defensive. "I don't want any trouble okay? Here." I unfasten my belt and pull the holster  
off. Passing it over the dog's head to the only person he'll let anywhere near me. He, in turn, passes it to the deputy as I cinch my belt again. I look over at the officer. "Are the cuffs necessary?"

He eyes the dog warily, "I guess not."

The man next in front of me leads me off to the squad car and opens the door for me to get in. I settle myself into the seat as he holds his leg out to keep the dog from climbing in after me, closing the car door. It's a solid minute before he convinces  
his pet to walk away from the car, and he still takes his time as he does it. Stopping every few feet to look back over his shoulder longingly before he finally reaches the tow truck and hops in after a wave of his owner's hand. The driver door opens  
and closes and I look up to see Garth looking at me in the rear view mirror. His eyes scream suspicion and I look away, out the window. We ride in silence to the Sheriff's station and he parks right up front while the tow truck pulls into a small  
side lot. Garth notices me watching and finally speaks up. "The owner is headed here to claim it and we'll see what he has to say about you." I roll my eyes at his emphasis of 'the owner' and don't say anything in response. He comes around to let  
me out and I follow him inside in the muted light of dawn. He leads me to a cell and tells me to get comfortable because I'll be here at least the next two hours.

I sit on the end of the cot by the bars and tip my head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. Moments later there's a wet nose pushing against my hand through the bars and I look over to see my loyal four legged friend wagging his tail at me.  
I reach out to scratch his nose. "Hi buddy." I look up and raise my voice a little so that Garth can hear me from where he stands several feet away. "Any chance I can get some food? I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday and at this point I've thrown  
most of that back up." They both look very confused so I clarify, looking at the one called Winchester. "You didn't see the state those dogs were in." His eyes go dark and he turns his head to say something to the deputy quietly.

Garth nods and turns away from him to yell down a hallway. "Jody!" An older woman with short brown hair comes strolling into the room with her hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised. "We've got a car thief here who claims it's really hers, the real  
owner's on the way and due to arrive in maybe two hours. She says she hasn't eaten since lunch yesterday so I'll head out and pick up some breakfast. Keep an eye on her?" She nods and he heads out the door.

"What are you doin' here boy?" The tow truck driver scrubs a hand over his face and drops into a chair at one of the desks.

He lets out a dry chuckle. "Garth called me to tow the truck back to the station so the owner could claim it. Look who grand-theft-auto over there found." He waves a hand in my general direction.

Jody's eyes follow the movement and she notices the dog sitting outside the cell. "Well I'll be damned. Dog?" He turns his head and his tail thumps against the concrete floor. "I'm real happy you found him Dean. But how come you ain't headed home? You  
could use some sleep before you open the shop."

He rolls his eyes so dramatically I'm surprised they stay in his head. "Apparently Dog is attached. He growled at Garth when he tried to cuff her. Growled, Jody. At Garth!" He's shaking his head at this point, exasperated. "And he pouted up a storm the  
whole drive here because I wouldn't let him ride with her. Figured I might as well hang around. Don't want him to be mad at me when I just got him back." There's sadness in his voice, that man really loves his dog.

They sit and catch up until Garth gets back with a paper bag containing what I assume is food. Hopefully something delicious, but really anything edible will do at this point. When he opens the bag at the desk closest to the cell I'm in, it sends me diving  
for the metal toilet in the corner. Nothing substantial comes up this time, but the stomach acid still burns my throat. Apparently my stomach does not think bacon and egg sandwiches smell very delicious. When I sit back on my feet and turn my head,  
I'm met with two very shocked men and a woman who looks like she understands far more than I would like. She stands and moves over to a mini fridge in the corner of the room. "That might be too heavy for you right now honey, think you can stomach  
a fruit cup or two?" Her eyes are full of understanding that makes me tense and teary at the same time. I nod hesitantly and she passes two fruit cups through the bars to me with a plastic fork and a water bottle. She doesn't acknowledge the confused  
looks the men give her, simply picks up the bag of food and moves to the other end of the room where they eat and go about their business.

After I've finished the fruit cups and water I lay down with my head by the bars, hanging one arm down so I can still pet the dog who is lying on the other side. It's not long before my eyes fall shut and I'm dozing off.

A hand running over my hair wakes me. There's somebody in the cell with me, crouched by the cot. I look up and am met with the crystal blue eyes of my best friend. "Ya just can't stay outta trouble can ya, cher?"

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 **As always, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is always welcome. I love reviews, favorites, follows; heck, I'm happy just when people read the darn thing. Until next time, much love xx.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, yea, my bad. As usual it has been forever since I've updated. Hopefully somebody is still around reading this. I'm not going to promise to update more regularly because at this point we all know that's a flat out lie. I do still hope you enjoy and I will promise one thing. I have not and will not abandon this story. I love this story, I think about it constantly, it's just hard for me to find the motivation and/or time to write. With that said, here's chapter three.**

 **Disclaimer: I still don't and will likely never, own Supernatural. I just love it, and the Winchester boys, a whole lot.**

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As soon as my brain registers who's in front of me, my body reacts. In the next second, we're both on the ground. My momentum knocks him out of his crouched position and into a sitting one with me in his lap, face buried in his neck, my hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. I'm met with a deep earthy scent layered with spices, it's the smell of my best friend, of home, and I've missed it. A wave of nostalgia rushes over me and knocks down every barrier I thought I had put up over the years and before I know it, I'm sobbing. I feel his arms come around my back, each hand grips a side and his thumbs move back and forth in a soothing motion. He turns his face into my hair and speaks softly right next to my ear. "Shh, it's ok cher, I gotcha."

The deep timbre of his voice reinforces the fact that he's really here, that he didn't give up on me, even though he could have. "You were right, everything you tried to tell me. I was so terrible to you and you were right the whole time." My arms move up to wrap around his neck as I start to hiccup through my tears. "I'm so sorry Benny."

I feel his shoulders stiffen before he forces himself to relax, "we don't gotta talk about that right now, you're outta there and that's all I care about."

We sit like that until I can get my tears and breathing back under control. When I've finally settled he puts one hand on either side of my neck and pulls away to look me in the eyes. "Why didn't you call me darlin'? You know I woulda been there for you in a heartbeat."

He sounds so hurt that I didn't reach out that I have to look away from him, but he just moves so that he is back in my line of sight. "I know, but he knows that too. I didn't want to put you in that position. I knew as soon as he figured out I was gone he'd go lookin' fer me wit you. I figured-" my eyes start filling with moisture again and I roll them in frustration of not being able to control my emotions "-I dunno. Plausible deniability or somethin'?" The look on his face is telling me I'm a fool. "He ruins lives fer breakfast Benny, I can't be responsible for him ruinin' yours." He gently pulls me back into his arms so I can cry into his neck again.

I can feel him shaking his head and his arms are tense with the anger he's holding back. "I ain't scared a him cher. I may not be an angel but I sure ain't done nothin' he can come after me for."

My eyes roll to look at the ceiling as I laugh without humor. I pull back from his embrace and it's my turn to force eye contact, to make him understand the gravity of the situation. "It doesn't matter, he'll find something and if he can't, he'll use something else and make it your fault." His eyes roll and he tries to pull away from my grip. I shift my hands from his neck to his face and turn his head back to look at me. "You listen to me Benjamin Lafitte. _He is dangerous._ "

His hands envelope mine as he pulls them away from his cheeks. "Ok cher." I can tell he still doesn't believe me, but somebody clearing their throat just outside my cell catches our attention. I look over to see the tow truck driver, Dean?, with one eyebrow cocked dramatically.

Garth is standing next to him, arms crossed in annoyance. When he catches my eye he motions us out of the cell. "Take a seat." He gestures with one hand to two empty seats in front of a desk, then goes to sit with Jody on the other side. As we both settle into chairs I see Dean lean back against the next desk over. The dog looks up at him for a moment before wandering over and sitting down beside my chair, laying his head in my lap with a huff. I smile softly as I lay a hand carefully on his head. It looks like his owner finished cleaning him up . Garth's voice brings me back to the real world. "Alright, first order of business. Would you like to press charges for vehicle theft?"

Benny's face is gloriously confused. "Why would I do that? It's her truck." Garth looks extremely annoyed at that. "Didn't she tell you that?"

"Your name is the one on the title, I get that maybe this was a little domestic dispute, but you can still press charges sir." The deputy is giving Benny a look that nearly insists that he follow his advice.

I can hear the light rumble in his chest that crops up when people push the right buttons. "Look, I ain't pressin' charges. It's her truck and hers alone, end of discussion. Whatever reasons we may have for puttin' it in my name are, frankly, none of your goddamn business, officer. So I'd appreciate it if we could be on our way." On any given day Benny is intimidating, his stature alone has made men second guess how tough they think they are. Paired with that look in his eyes, he's damn near terrifying to anyone with a lick of sense.

Apparently this cop doesn't have a lick of sense, because he looks to be gearing up to start again. Before he can stick his other foot in his mouth, Jody speaks up. "Of course you two are free to go." She gives Garth a stern look when he starts to protest. "We apologize for taking you so far from home Mr. Lafitte." She then passes my revolver in its holster across the desk to me. "I believe this is the only thing we have of your personal effects." I give her a grateful nod and slip the holster back onto my belt.

We all stand and head towards the front of the building. "It's no problem Sheriff Mills. I'm just glad to see my girl's alright." He holds open the door and leads me out with a hand at the small of my back.

Before we make it too far the Sheriff calls out to me. "You drive safe now, ya hear? And don't forget to take your vitamins." She gives me a pointed look at that. I just give her a nod in return.

The tow truck driver walks out to let my truck down, but Benny and I follow at a slower pace. He has a restaurant to get back to running, and my journey isn't over. We both know our time together here is coming to an end and we want to cherish what's left of it. He pulls me against his side with an arm around my shoulders. "Promise you'll keep in touch cher. I don't care about plausible deniability, I wanna know that you're safe, ya hear?" I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head. "It's been too long since I was comfortable with your well being." We come to a stop next to what must be his rental car and I squeeze my eyes shut as I bury my face in his chest, basking in the smell of home while I can. I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head as he wraps me in one last hug. "I wanna know everything that's goin' on with you, okay?"

I pull back to look him in the eyes. "Okay." He leans down so I can press a kiss to his cheek. "Love you big brother."

He smiles at my words. "Love you too little sister." His eyes flick over my shoulder and the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk. "You better go get your truck cher, looks like pretty boy over there is gettin' antsy." I glance over my shoulder to see Dean leaning against my now free truck, arms folded over his chest, annoyance clear on his face. The pitbull sitting at his feet is creating a small dust cloud with the thump of his tail, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. I turn back to Benny and with one final bear hug he climbs in his rental car to head back to the airport.

I stand and watch until he turns onto the main road that brought us into town, then I turn and make my way over to man and his best friend. As I approach, his arms drop from his chest and he tucks his hand into his back pockets. "Boyfriend not stickin' around to make sure you head out safe?" His tone is snarky with a hint of something that I can't decipher.

My shoulders shrug nonchalantly, "Benny knows I can take care a myself." I let one hand drop to the dog's head as the other takes the keys that Dean holds out to me. "And he's not my boyfriend." He steps aside so that I can open the driver's side door.

I've got one foot on the running board, ready to climb in, when he speaks up. "Listen, I know yer itchin' to leave town, get on the road, but, uh - you think maybe you could tell me some things first?" I pause and turn to look back at him, confusion on my face. "About where you found Dog", he clarifies. I nod slowly as I pull myself to sit sideways on the bench seat.

There's one thing nagging at me. "I'm sorry, real quick, did you… his name is Dog?"

The tips of his ears turn a little bit red as his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. "Uh, yea, it's kind of a long story." His embarrassed little grin leaves me breathless. Before I have to physically shake myself out of it, his demeanor shifts back to serious. "I just was wonderin' where exactly you found him."

"Maybe a half hour from here. Little town called Bonner Springs. There was a barn behind a restaurant just off the highway. They was holdin' the fights inside, but the dog's were chained up outside." I smile fondly down at Dog. Seriously, Dog, what a guy thing to name your pet. "He's a real softie, your boy. But he was pullin' on that chain somethin' fierce, I tell ya."

Dean's smile is fond as he looks down at his four legged companion. "Yea, he's a mean lookn' SOB, but I've always known he wasn't like that. Those guys you took him from, they offered to buy him from me once. Said I could make some real money, invited me to see my investment over in Bonner Springs. I turned 'em down. My boy ain't a fighter. When he went missin' I was sure it was them, but I didn't have any proof, not until now." It's silent between us for a few moments. "Anyways, normally I'd have to charge for the tow, but this guy is more than enough. Plus the tow was definitely not what you wanted."

My temper flares at his story, but there's nothing I can do about it now so I comfort myself with knowing that I got that poor puppy out of there. "Well, I'm glad ya feel that way, cause there ain't no way I'd be able to pay fer the tow. Bein' on the run ain't exactly a lucrative business." As I expected, my words don't seem to surprise man is clearly more than just a pretty face. "Speaking of. I think it's about time I head out." I pat my thigh to get Dog's attention and he immediately puts his paws up on my knees. I run my hands over his big head and place a kiss right in the middle of his forehead. When I pull away from him, he licks the side of my face and hops down. I hold out my hand to the handsome man in front of me. "It was nice to meet you Dean Winchester."

His hand takes mine in a firm handshake. "It was nice to meet you too… ?"

I smile at the lack of limp fish handshake. "Jane, just Jane."

"Well, just Jane. I hope you find what you're lookin' for."

I give him a smile as he steps back so I can sit straight and pull the door closed. He gives a little wave as I leave the parking lot. I stop right before the highway to get gas and snacks and refill my three water bottles. When I climb back in my truck and turn the key it turns over a couple times but doesn't catch. "No, no, no, not again." I release the key and try again with the same results. "Come on baby, don't do this ta me right now." I give it one last try and thankfully this time it catches and my truck roars to life. "Oh, thank heavens." Before it can decide that it doesn't actually want to run, I shift into first and make my way out of the gas station and onto the highway.

It's not even fifteen minutes later that the truck starts to sputter like it's running out of gas, which clearly isn't the case. I guide it over to the shoulder just in time for it to die, the radio the only thing still working. I drop my head to the steering wheel in defeat. "Son of a bitch."

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 **Thank you for making it through yet another chapter. Reviews give me life and spur me to write faster and more frequently. If I think I'm the only one invested I don't typically see a point in writing the story out. After all, I can just watch it in my head whenever I want. I still understand if you're not comfortable leaving a review. Favorites and follows warm my heart as well. As always, much love xx.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Holy Batman has it been a while y'all. If you're still here, thank you for your patience. If you're joining us for the first time, I am probably the slowest updater that you will ever see. Just know that I'm forever sorry for the delay. Also, know that I am constantly thinking about the stories that I write, so I probably have not abandoned it, even if it has been a while.**

 **As always, I own nothing and no one save for Jane and Dog. Hope you enjoy their journey as much as I do.**

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My forehead thumps against the steering wheel twice before I sit up straight to glare at the hood of my truck. This is just my luck. When my truck finally decides to let me down, it does it all the way. In a corn field. In Kansas. Right after I wrapped up my last damsel-in-distress episode. I can't call for a tow truck without a phone, and I wouldn't know what number to call anyway. I sigh in frustration and pull the hood release before climbing out of the cab. There's no smoke billowing out so I try to stay positive by reminding myself that at least this isn't as bad as it could be - but I'd really rather just be negative right now. I push the hood up and just stare at the engine for a second. In my head I run through the list of problems she's had in the past. The old corroded battery cables have been replaced, the alternator is new, well new-ish, and the carburetor was cleaned out recently as well. With the way that it just sputtered to a stop and the lack of visible problem with the engine, my best guess is that the fuel pump finally gave up on me. I rake my hands through my hair and gaze up at the sky, shaking my head. I let my arms flop back down and put my hands on my hips, glaring at my truck. "I hate you so much right now, I hope you know that."

I pull the hood closed and make my way back to the driver's side. As I'm reaching in to pull out the keys and grab a bottle of water I hear tires on the gravel shoulder. I lean back out of the cab to see a tow truck pulling up behind me. I'm gonna pretend for a minute that I'm hoping for anyone but Dean; I don't particularly want him to tow me twice in less than twenty four hours. The man that climbs out of the open door is decidedly not Dean Winchester. This man is much older. He's tall and broad shouldered with thick black hair and a salt and pepper beard. He's got a walk that I immediately recognize as military, proud shoulders and sure feet. It's not the bow legged saunter of the last tow truck driver I encountered. When he reaches me I take in kind hazel eyes as he speaks with a low, gruff voice. "You havin' some vehicle trouble ma'am?"

"Yea," ok minute's over, but if I'm a little bit disappointed that he isn't Dean can you really blame me? "I was just getting ready to hoof it back to the nearest gas station, but it looks like today's my lucky day."

His smile is kind and it crinkles the edges of his eyes. "Must be. You got any idea what could be wrong?"

Something about this man's demeanor puts me at ease, so the next words just slip right on out of my mouth. "Pretty sure the flux capacitor went out." It takes some effort to keep my composure when his eyebrows furrow in confusion. He is struggling with how best to correct me when I break into a amused grin. "I'm kiddin'. My best guess is the fuel pump went bad. But I'm no mechanic, so I can't be sure."

"Well, I just happen to know the best mechanic in town." He turns and gestures to the tow truck. "I can take you back to the shop and have you fixed up in no time."

In large print, the side of the truck reads S & W Auto. "S & W? Like Smith and Wesson?"

He chuckles at that, "I like that assumption, but no. Singer and Winchester." He holds his hand out to me and I return it with a firm handshake. "John Winchester, at your service."

My hand hesitates in his before I remember to pull it back. "Winchester? As in Dean Winchester?"

"Ah, so you've already met the best mechanic in town." He gives a crooked smile as he slips his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

One of my eyebrows arches in surprise. "The way ya were talkin' I thought you was gonna say you were the best around."

"I used to be, taught Dean everything I know. But that boy, he's got so much natural talent for the workings of machinery. He's the best damn mechanic I've ever seen."

It's strange to me, someone's dad speaking so highly of them. "Well, then I guess he's the guy I need to see." Something occurs to me then. "If you were on your way somewhere I can wait for ya ta get back, I'm in no rush."

He looks marginally bashful at my words. "Uh, see, I was actually on my way back in to town. I saw you from the other side of the freeway. Figured I'd stop and offer my services."

His kindness makes me smile, "I'm glad you did. Thank ya kindly."

For the second time I watch as a Winchester loads my Chevy onto their tow truck. When he's finished he motions for me to get in and we head back towards town.

We're only a couple blocks into town when I see the moderately sized shop with a scrapyard behind it. There's a big sign that has it spelled out all the way, 'Singer & Winchester Automotives'. The shop itself has three work bays although only one of them is currently occupied. A second one is taken up when John backs my truck into it. As he's climbing out he turns to me. "Office is just through that door, I'm gonna let your truck down and then I'll come talk to you about gettin' her fixed up."

I make it about halfway to the door marked 'Office' before I'm stopped dead in my tracks by a cold nose pressing into my hand followed by the sound of a tail slamming against a metal tool box. Turning around I find Dog staring up at me with his one eye and a dopey grin, tongue hanging out of his mouth. "Well hello there." I drop to my knees and raise my hands to scratch behind his ears. When he reaches out to lick my face I turn my head so that he licks my chin instead. "I missed ya too buddy."

A new voice catches my attention. "Ah, Dog, you've taken to salivating over beautiful maidens, have you? You surely do take after your human." The gravelly new voice belongs to a model worthy blonde. Are all the men in town this pretty or am I just lucky?

I stand to introduce myself. Before I can, a voice that I would already recognize anywhere catches my attention. "You tellin' lies about me again Zeke?" Gorgeous green eyes widen in surprise at the sight of me. They only stay that way for a moment before he slips into a sly grin. "Just couldn't stay away could ya, sweetheart?"

Que eyeroll. "More like my truck couldn't stay away."

He's about to say something, probably snarky, in response when John walks up. "Good, you're here. Need ya to take a look at somethin' Deano." He looks down and sees Dog sitting at my feet. "Just what do you think you're doin' wanderin' around the shop, boy? You know you ain't supposed to be off your bed when you're here." Dog tucks his nose behind my knee at the scolding tone, but doesn't go anywhere. I look in the direction that the pit had come from and sure enough there's a huge dog bed with a box of toys next to it.

Dean chuckles at that. "He's attached, apparently." He tucks the red shop rag he was wiping his hands with into his back pocket. "Dad, this is Jane, she's the one who found Dog and got him away from those monsters."

John's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "In that case, I'm definitely glad I stopped." He turns to the man standing quietly off to the side. "Zeke, think you could check and see if we've got a fuel pump for a '73 Silverado?"

His eyes flick between the three of us, but he decides against commenting. "I certainly can boss." He turns and makes his way into the office.

The elder Winchester addresses his son again. "Do me a favor, run a full diagnostic on the truck. Check the fluids and tires while you're at it . I'm gonna go talk over pricing with Miss -"

I know that I'm supposed to fill in the blank for him, but I don't, and the silence starts to become awkward. Luckily, Dean speaks up. "It's just Jane." The wink he sends me is conspiratorial instead of flirty, and I appreciate it.

John accepts it with a simple nod of the head. "Just Jane then." I give them both a small smile in thanks.

Dean makes his way over to my pickup and John leads me toward the office, Dog hot on my heels. As he holds open the door for us to pass through he offers refreshments to me. "A water'd be great, thank ya."

We make our way over to the front desk, where he hands me a water bottle from the mini fridge behind it and then wakes up the computer. "Alright, the fuel pumps on those trucks aren't too pricey, and if Zeke can find one in the back it'll cost ya even less. Dean is pretty quick too so labor hours shouldn't be too high. Unless he finds something else that needs fixin'."

At his words my heart stutters with panic. "I 'ppreciate what cha did fer me. But I really don't have very much money. I'll pay for the fuel pump of course. Obviously I don't have much choice if I wanna keep movin', but I can't afford anythin' else." He straightens up from where he was leaning on the tall counter as I speak. "I mean, as is I might have to ask ya ta hold off 'til I can get some more cash together."

He doesn't respond right away, just studies me for a moment. "I would feel better if I knew you were all set before you head off. If you're not afraid of manual labor, I could ask around on where you could make some extra cash."

I wring my hands together nervously until Dog pushes his nose between them, a whine falling from his mouth. I turn my hands to scratch at his ears, my racing heart slowing marginally. "The offer means a lot to me Mr. Winchester, but I really do need ta get on tha road 's soon as possible."

John doesn't look convinced, but he seems to understand that he won't be able to change my mind. He heaves a sigh before conceding. "Well, if that's your decision. Let's see what the damage is here and then see about gettin ya on your way."

The sound of the door from the garage opening doesn't draw my attention until the wiggle of Dog's butt knocks me in the leg. Dean makes his way over to the counter and greets his canine with an affectionate pat on the head. "It's a good thing you had me look that truck over Dad, it's fixin' to fall apart in more ways than one. And I know it ain't whatcha wanna hear sweetheart, but it's a good thing your fuel pump gave out now. Sounds terrible, but I'm glad it's us that gets to fix 'er up for ya."

A raised brow from the elder Winchester is all it takes for me to sigh. "Alright. Fine." I look down at the big goof with his head in my lap. "Looks like you'll be seein' lots o' me yet boy."

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 **Please, please, _please,_ throw me a review, they are my lifeblood. Much love. xx**


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